In the Cover of Knight
by Eggselentwriter
Summary: Matthias is a new Lord in the Royal court, inheriting the command of every soldier in the Kingdom. Lucille is the heiress to the throne of the very same. When war is declared upon the lands, The Princess and the Lord are thrust into a new world of violence, hurt, war and surprisingly: Love. But there is no time for error. They must reclaim the kingdom before everything is lost
1. Welcome To Vona

Vona was a lovely place. The grass was always green and flowers bloomed nearly year-round, it was told. And when it wasn't, there was a beautiful layer of snow. Never so high that you couldn't walk to where you needed, but not so shallow that you could see anything beneath it. It was also said to sparkle like crystals in the sun. Trees and forests were plenty, creating the most beautiful of views from just about any window. Farm animals grazed and grumbled their off-tuned notes to communicate with one another. Whilst the birds sang sweetly in the skies and trees, and wolves hid away in the forests, rarely exiting.

The kingdom was well known for its peace and quiet. It had been this way for many years and The king, in question, had been fair and good, allowing his people to do as they pleased as long as it was for the good of the kingdom and didn't interfere with the peace. He saw himself as any other person, a citizen if you will, claiming that "a crown is just a silly hat that lets the rain in".

The queen had passed away giving birth to the second princess. The time then had been mournful, for she had been just as sweet as her husband. But her death did not stop the king from raising two (rumored) beauties to inherit the throne. Princess Lucille and Emiline, were their names. Not many could claim that they had met them, none but few soldiers and the servants in the palace. Because of this, there were many rumors about them and what they were like. They ranged from an idea that they were quite rude and demanding, to another that they were sweeter than honey both in demeanor and personality.

Matthias himself had never seen the princesses nor did he have any intention or anticipation of meeting them up until recently… when his father died.

The great Lord Mikkel had been a large majority of the reason that Vona was as serene as it had become over the years. He was the commander of the militia and quite good at what he did. Known to be the kings best friend, he was the iron fist with which the peace remained. Not to say he wasn't kind- he was almost as famous as his Royal Highness for his large heart. But he was also known for his strength, and zero tolerance for wrongdoing. He had a lovely wife, her name had been Frejya, and two sons, Matthias and Berwald.

That all came to a screeching halt as of two weeks ago. Mikkel had suddenly grown ill with an unknown cause- at least no one had time to figure it out anyway… not before he died just as suddenly as he had gotten sick.

Upon the great commander's death, Matthias had inherited the position. Even though he had tried to argue that his younger brother, Berwald, would be a better choice for the honors. But they had said that not only because he was the oldest, but because his father had requested it personally.

Why? Why would his father, who was a wise and good man, want a fool like Matthias in his place? Matthias wasn't smart, he wasn't calculating he wasn't even good at reading maps. Berwald was all of those things plus he was better at sparring than he was. 'Because Matthias was far too sporadic and unthinking, like a common child' in battle, according to their mother.

Lord Mikkel had finally made a mistake in his long, peaceful run as commander. And Matthias was that mistake. And he wasn't the only who thought so. His mother had made quite sure he remembered it, too. All of the way until her own death only four days after their father. The very same illness, it seemed.

"I don't know what you were thinking Dad." Matthias muttered, running his hand on the coarse edge of the beautiful stone that he and his brother had carved themselves. A matching one stood just as stunningly next to it, but he didn't have as much to say to that one. The earth in front of the graves was soft, freshly churned from burying the coffins. There was no body in Lord Mikkel's, however. His had been burned like many great men before him. Belief being that when burned, a true hero's spirit was released from their confines of the people, to roam wherever he wished. Supposedly that made him an equivalent to a god of sorts. Whether that was in the after world- here, or somewhere they felt their influence was needed, Matthias didn't know. He was quite certain that he didn't believe it.

The king had insisted on a royal funeral for his closest friend. The gravestone had been made so that the common people who loved him, which were many, could visit. Numerous flowers and trinkets had been left on the two stones. Chains of daisies from children, Small baubles of glass from the local glass makers, a finely crafted blade from the smith, even the finest breads from the bakers. All had taken time and effort for the gifts. The same amounts of love had gone into the gifts for the dead commander as had been put into them when he had been alive.

"The uniform doesn't even suit me. I'd hate to see what the armor looks like." The tall son mumbled to the stone, as if it could hear him. Matthias' blond, tousled hair was ruffled as the wind blew through the yard. He almost heard his father's laugh in his ear, a distant memory. 'Don't be silly my dear boy, you look like a man'.

He didn't feel much like one.

In fact, he felt like a child. A lost, wandering child with no place to go but forward. But there was a fog or a cloud so dense that forward was still a blind wandering. The only thing that followed him was his own shadow, and the distant memories (and sometimes hurtful input) of his deceased parents. It was funny, sometimes he felt like maybe he was the shadow. Forward could be backward for all he knew. Maybe he was going in circles. Perhaps he wasn't even on any road- perhaps he was drowning in an ocean. He couldn't see the path that he was on and he wasn't sure he wanted to. Not yet anyway. He was afraid to.

He remembered the first time he had worn his father's uniform. He had been ten or something, and the uniform was far, far too big. The sleeves hung off his arms and the collar almost slipped off of his thin shoulders.

'One day you'll wear the uniform again my boy. It's a big responsibility, but you'll have to take it up when I no longer can. Maybe you'll feel like it doesn't fit yet, even though it's made just for you. That's when you're a man. You'll grow into a fine man, Matthias. I'm sure of it.

But one day… you'll put it on. Then… you'll realize that you've grown into a Lord, because it will suddenly feel like it fits.' Lord Mikkel had told him tenderly, and then had slapped his back with a booming laugh and kind smile. Matthias frowned. It still didn't feel like it fit, he still felt too small in the padded shoulders and under the markings for commander. And he was beginning to feel certain that it never would. Lord indeed. That day must have been far, far away from his wandering grasp.

"Well I have to go. The king has called an audience with me over something important, better not keep him waiting." He added softly. He kissed his fingers and pressed them to the stone, a common farewell gesture among family. Usually to the forehead, but a headstone would have to do now. "I'll talk to you again later." he let out a short laugh. "even now I need your advice."

He stood, brushing off the black slacks of his new formal uniform. The red and white of his coat was pristine and had been smoothed with a hot iron earlier. A burn on his hand, just where his thumb met his palm, proved it alongside that, making it hard to close his fingers. He wore the black gloves over that, and hoped no one would notice. The black strip of chain mail crossed from his shoulder to hip over that, sewn expertly into the coat so that it appeared to be cloth. The metal bits flashed in just the right light. Silver gauntlets adorned the sleeves over his wrists, shining from their fresh polish. A matching, long, silver cord crossed over his broad chest twice, hooking together over the closing flap of it with an iron cross holding it all in place right over his beating heart. It represented the "heart of the kingdom", or so it was told. He sighed and made his way over the field of graves in quick strides, silently giving prayers to each one he passed and making sure not to step where anyone could be buried.

"Matthias? Is that- Oh I mean _Lord_ Matthias!" A familiar voice called. The blond looked up and around to see his childhood friend, Gilbert waving to him. He put on his usual smile and waved back, walking carefully towards the albino. He was shorter than Matthias, and had a fair amount of black soot on his nose. His white hair was tousled by the wind as well and his usual black apron was missing, just his tanned trousers and an off-blue shirt with a hole in the sleeve. And his dark leather gloves- as usual.

"Gilbert my good man!" he laughed, receiving the ridiculous bear hug from the Blacksmith. He seemed to have his younger brother running it today. Probably on a supply run to the village over, if his cart had anything to say about it. "How are you? Do you need help?"

"I'm doing just fine, just fine. And nah- I've got this. Just some iron from Alfred. Needed to get it for the armor orders we just got in." Gilbert said with a nod. But his face held more concern now, looking into the newest Lord's blues with his shocking red eyes. "And you? How are you holding up?" He asked, putting a hand on the other's shoulder and squeezing tightly. Matthias smiled.

"I'm alright, just trying to get the hang of all this." He said, turning his gaze to the palace just beyond the hills and then back to his friend. "It's… a lot."

"I can only imagine. What did you do to your hand?" He asked, grabbing the appendage and lifting it to examine.

"Ah- you noticed?" dang it. "I was trying to iron this uniform before I went in to see the king-"

"Of course I noticed you never hold your hand flat like that. You burned yourself? Ha! Here" Gilbert fished in his pockets before pulling out a small bottle. "Put that on it and it'll take away the pain. Promise, I'm used to burns. And we have a lot of it at home." He winked. "So, the king? Already? It's only been what- two weeks?"

"Yes well- some things can't wait. Especially in my, uh, new position. I guess." He sighed, tucking the small bottle into his trouser pocket.

Gilbert didn't seem to like that. But he nodded anyway and took the last moment to pat his shoulder. "Well. You shouldn't be keeping him waiting. And I have to get back to Elizabeta… she'll have my hide if I'm late with the supplies."

Matthias laughed and nodded, waving as Gilbert took back off with his cart, going back into town. "Tell her and Ludwig I said hello!" He called, receiving a barking laugh and accompanying wave in response.

He squared his shoulders, breathed deep and started to walk.

He found himself- after about a kilometer of walking- at the front of the palace doors. The young lord hadn't realized how deep in thought he had precisely been until that moment, and he mentally slapped himself. "Get a grip. You have a job to do." It was a very different job from chopping and carving wood… or lifting heavy things… or helping at the bakery. Like he was used to.

He took a deep breath, brushing his thumb over the intricate silver pummel of the sword that hung at his side. Another inhale, and he marched inside, nodding to the guards he passed.

* * *

"What do you think has father so worked up?" Princess Emiline asked from her chair in the library, a favorite place for the two princesses of the kingdom. Books lined the huge walls and the shelves were adorned with scrolls and texts. The oak wood of the furniture was polished to a beautiful sheen and the chandelier above their heads made crystal patterns reflect off the walls from the sun shining through the windows. She marked the page she was on with a finger and looked to her older sister.

Emiline was the smaller of the two, her hair was a pale blonde that was almost white in any source of light. She always curled ringlets into it in the morning, but her stubborn locks refused to stay in the springy style for more than a few hours and turned straight again by the end of the day. Her eyes had a wise look to them, their pale violet seemed to search the soul of whomever they gazed upon. Her skin was a delicate ivory, without blemish or flaw, but for a tiny scar under her jaw, which was hidden by her long locks. A round face with dark eyelashes, which was surprising, given her hair colour. She was thin but had a healthy curve to her hips and shoulders, while she always sat elegantly with her ankles crossed.

Lucille looked up at her, eyeglasses pinched between her fingers as she lowered them to her lap. The thick novel was pushed aside on the table. "I think- and with no light heart- that perhaps with the death of our dear commander, that we may be running into our first bout of discord in many years."

Lucille held a different sort of charm to her. As befitting a princess, she was firm, a straight back and shoulders back. Her legs were crossed while her hands were folded in place over them. Her simple blue dress covered her properly, but the power that resided behind her posture could not be missed by any. She had a wiry form, from training on the grounds with the soldiers in her spare time. She was, as many had said before, muscular for a woman. Thankfully, that fact had kept many from realizing she was the princess at all. But somehow, she kept the same grace and splendor that was expected of a future queen. Her golden locks were pinned up in a lovely bun, all but a single curl of hair that downright refused to stay down. Her eyes, the same colour as her sister's, were sharp, calculating, searching from under her long, blond lashes. She had a longer face, sharper features.

Emiline put a thoughtful hand to her chin and looked out the window. The glassy pane was wavy from its meltdown and reform, creating a distorted view of the outside. Grassy plains and trees waved their organic forms in the breeze, greeting the fresh day in their warped, twisted paradise.

"I fear for father, then."

"Indeed we should." Lucille nodded, resting her cheek in her hand. She twirled the two lenses carefully between her fingers, carefully contemplating what to say. "He's in no condition to fight."

Indeed he was not. The king, in fact, had just celebrated with his people his 77th birthday. And as happy as Lucille and Emiline were for his long, happy rule, they were also concerned for what could happen. Would anyone take advantage of his old age? And the absence of his commander? Such worries had put the castle in a constant state of unease. Soldiers were more formal, always ready for... something. What it was, no one knew. Though it seemed that, as of yesterday, the king may have gotten some sort of idea.

"You think it will come to that?" The younger sister quietly asked. Lucille shook her head slowly, not in a negative response, but in a worried fashion.

"I hope not. But hopes do not create reality, I'm afraid." She told her little sister. "I fear- well. I fear the worst is yet to come."

The two sat silently, neither reading or looking at anything in particular. There was much to think on, and little time, it seemed, to do it.

"Luci- when was that new Lord supposed to come-?" Emiline suddenly asked. Lucille looked up at her sister.

"Why do you ask? He is not supposed to arrive until-"

"Well I think I just saw a man in one of the uniforms come inside the main entrance." The younger said, looking from the window to her sister.

Realizing the late afternoon hour, Lucille stood in a flurry, putting the book and her glasses on the oak table, and let out a quite unladylike curse.

* * *

 **Hello and welcome to the Story! Let me know what you think/if I messed up e7 e bb**


	2. Long Live the King

I

The king, Darius his name, was a tall man, not as tall as his former commander had been, but taller than most. His hair was white with age and knowledge and his features were sharp. A pointed nose, calculating, violet eyes, all tied together in a thin frame. His short, thick, white beard just hid his pointed chin, trimmed in a perfect V, making it look even pointier. His shoulders indicated former power as a warrior or soldier himself, but it was no longer. His hands were strong but wrinkled and the creases in his face shewed a life of laughter and smiles.

He was sitting in the Map room… awaiting his newest Lord. Thinking on all that had transpired. His dear friend's death had been unforeseen… and yet for their old age he wasn't so surprised. In fact, he anticipated his own departure to be arriving sooner than later, but he would continue on for his people and his daughters. He had to. Especially with recent events being what they were…

The door opened, breaking his Majesty from his thoughts. A young man entered… taller than he. His hair was golden, like straw… and it seemed to stick up as such as well. Broad shoulders and strong form, hard labour and training holding it up. His uniform only empowered his appearance, making his blue eyes practically spark and his frame look even larger than it probably was. Yes… indeed this was Mikkel's son. His best friend's own child. It was like seeing a ghost of a distant past.

"Ah- Lord Matthias. I do apologize for the short notice. Especially after the loss of Lord Mikkel and Lady Frejya." His highness said with a frown as the young commander entered the room, bowing in respect as he did. "No need for the formalities either." He chuckled.

"I see." Matthias laughed in response, feeling slightly more at ease. "Then just Matthias, if you will." He grinned.

"Of course. Now- as much as I would prefer idle and friendly conversation, there is business to attend to."

* * *

II

Lucille and Emiline hastened through the stone halls of the palace. (And by hastened, the author meant ran at a rather improper speed down the hallways, nearly tripping over their hems. But that wouldn't sound as proper) Neat shoes clicked against the ground and their dresses swished urgently, or the parts of them that weren't gathered up in their arms to keep from tearing or staining. Finally, they reached the map room- where the door had just shut. All Lucille had been able to catch sight of was one of the formal-uniform boots of a soldier. The new commander, if she guessed right. They had missed it.

"Drat." Emiline said with a huff, lightly stomping her foot in frustration and throwing her skirt back to where it belonged, over her ankles. "I wanted to listen in!"

Lucille put her hand to her chin, hair falling slightly around her face. "Perhaps it's not too late…" She said- looking around. She spotted a servant carrying their lunch trays back to the kitchen. She took quick strides to her, gave a small apology, grabbed two glasses, and then returned to her sister.

"Brilliant." Emiline grinned. She and Lucille put the glasses up to the heavy wood, careful not to hit it so hard that it would knock, and then pressed their ears to them.

It took a moment to get a distinction between the two muffled voices inside and the crackle of the fire. But after a moment, Lucille could tell that whoever the new lord was, he was young. A deep voice, but not as deep as father's was. He had to be somewhere around her age… He was older than Berwald after all. How was it that they hadn't met yet? She didn't know.

"I see." Said the stranger's voice. It was muffled and distorted by the door and glass, but heard nonetheless. And it was thoughtful. She could tell. "If we take action, however, the blame could be pointed on us as a kingdom… but if we don't…"

"Utter chaos." She heard her father's voice hum through the door. The two looked at each other, their different shades of violet filling with more concern. They listened on.

"So we need to come up with a plan to avoid conflict- or at least delay it until we are at least ready for such a confrontation. I do hope for the former."

"I do as well. Alas, it does not seem that they feel that way. What we need is an emergency plan, in case none of our efforts bring forth the desired outcomes."

"Indeed… I have a few ideas if I could?"

"I am all ears, my boy."

A small chuckle followed by a strange noise- it sounded like paper being laid flat on the table and a quill moving. An occasional hum of thought, the tap of a finger on the wood of something- this went on for a few minutes.

"Ah- I see. It's actually quite brilliant, Matthias. Risky, but brilliant." The king's voice said, full of surprise. "Even your father would say so."

"Thank you sir. But it's just an idea, the problem would be carrying it out. Making sure there is no room for error. Like you said, there is a fair amount of risk, and they are risks I'd rather not take. Especially when it involves the kingdom... I'd rather take as little chance as we can."

Lucille didn't feel convinced. She obviously couldn't see the plans that he had sketched so quickly, but the way his voice had faltered at the word 'idea' was concerning. She wasn't sure she trusted this lord- but if her father said it was a brilliant plan… then it must have been, right? Or was it risky?

"I will allow you any means to make it possible, once the plans are finalized. Unfortunately, time is of the essence. We must hurry."

"Yes- I agree. May I see a map of the palace? One with the servant's passages preferably. I have one of the forests here—And I'd like to have a plan for here as well. Not just the villages."

Lucille and Emiline listened on- but soon gave up. So much for being all ears, they were utterly silent. King Darius and Lord Matthias had turned the conversation into the scratch of quill to paper and occasional murmurs of idea or agreement. Shuffles of feet or paper accompanied those sounds- but other than that the meeting had fallen silent to the two sisters.

* * *

III

"I thought I should warn you- before you say more, that my daughters might be listening to us." The king muttered, as he pulled the map off of the shelf. Matthias quirked a brow and grinned at that.

"Truly?" he whispered back. "The old glass against the door trick?"

"Precisely. They learned from the best." Darius winked. "Don't worry- they were supposed to be here but it seems they lost track of time again."

"Ha!- I know that feeling." Matthias said, looking up at the window above the room. It was a stained glass piece- with flowers and trees and something about a dragon patterned into it- but it was easy to tell that the sun had begun to sink since they had started the meeting.

The king had briefed him on recent happenings. It seemed that there had been a group of scouts- from the neighboring kingdom- found just outside the palace, doing some sort of reconnaissance. They had been disguised as their own guards, but that had been what set them off. The other guards all knew each other- it was a rule that Mikkel had long set. Once again, the former Lord had proved his tactics and policies to be crucial. Matthias wished he could be half as brilliant to realize why that had been a rule before now. That aside, they had been quickly and justly dealt with.

"Likewise." The king nodded. "Thank you for your devotion to your duty, though. Your father would be-!" he was cut off immediately however, as a colossal boom echoed around them. Briefly, the king wondered if they were under a heavy lightning storm again- it always seemed to hit the metal at the top of the towers and it constantly made the palace shake.

But that thought was dashed as the door crashed open and a guard stumbled in, his armor smoking and blackened with soot and burn. His helmet was crushed at the side, trapping his head within it until he could get help to pry it off. His visor seemed to be dented as well, but he had not removed it. He also seemed to be one of the smaller of the Knights, but still taller than some on a normal scale. He held a crossbow tightly in his hand, and had three daggers strapped to his belt and two more on his leg, whereas his quiver was half-empty of its previous arrow collection.

"We're under attack m'lords! We must evacuate the palace! They've destroyed the Study and upper North tower!"

Matthias nodded and looked urgently to the king. "Well we're about to find out if it'll work." He turned to the guard. "Get his majesty and the Princesses out, use the servants paths as much as you can. There's a door that leads to the dungeon, ask one of the maids if you must. Go! His majesty will tell you the rest!" He said, taking the king's aged hand and slapping something into it. "I'll go and join the front to help- and try to send a few more to escort you."

"Yes sir!" the guard said, his crushed helmet muffling his voice. Matthias nodded and turned to leave. He was stopped as the king laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Be careful." He said solemnly. The blond nodded.

"Of course sir. You as well."

And they parted ways.

* * *

IV

The first explosion had been in the Study.

Lucille and Emiline were put quite out of their comfort zone when the wall suddenly seemed to blast apart. They were thrown from their chairs and pelted with rubble as some sort of explosion rattled the entire palace. Lucille, despite the ringing of her ears, and the coughing that racked through them both, crawled over to her sister asking if she was alright.

Either of the royals were barely recognizable through the white dust and soot that suddenly had coated their entire person. Emiline had blood trickling down from the side of her head where it could only be assumed that a rock or shelf or any other number of projectiles had hit her. Lucille could feel her own injuries… definitely cuts to her neck and head as well. It also felt like her leg was damaged. But she ignored them in favor of helping her sister stand and get out as fast as they possibly could.

They were under attack. Men and women dashed back and forth in terror and valor both. Screeches of metal colliding with its counter form rang out at every corner, while shouts and screams mixed in with them. It seemed, from these observations, that somehow the enemies had gotten inside without them noticing! How had this happened? Neither of the girls knew, but even more worrisome was that they didn't know what to do about it either.

"M'ladies!" a muffled voice called from behind them. They turned to see that a shorter guard, followed by two others with less damaged helmets and fewer injuries, was running towards them. However, the best part was that their father was right between them all in a protective tactic. "We have an escape route! Come with us!"

They only nodded, falling in step with Darius. Brief hugs of relief were given, but there was not time for more. They all dashed through the hallway, avoiding more fire from outside. Canons- it seemed- were being blasted into the sides of the palace, along with what seemed to be burning boulders.

"In here!" The guard said, opening a passage into one of the servant tunnels. None hesitated to enter, though some of the armor on the larger guards scraped along the narrow walls.

"Quiet down, they'll hear you!" one of them hissed- probably the smaller one. The two instantly tore off their pauldrons and moved on, rolling their shoulders in relief from the weight as they went.

"The servant girl said that the passage we need is past these three turns, and then to the left." The smaller one whispered. "And Lord Matthias has a plan for getting you all to safety."

"What is that plan?"

"Matthias and his family have an estate in the forest. They went there to hide away so that ...disgruntled criminals couldn't get to the family for doing his duty." The king said hastily. "There's a passage from the dungeons that leads to it- if you have the key." He held up a silver key that looked as if it had never been used. It was tied onto a red ribbon with the Køhler crest on the end of it.

"Where is the lord now?" Emiline asked, feeling dizzy from the head wound. She seemed to be fading… Lucille supporting her from the side.

"He's out fighting against the enemy. Men from Bereket, we believe." The elderly King said, eyes weary. "He said that he has sent word to his brother that we'd be coming. It should be ready for us."

"The kingdom to the north? Why?"

"Resources… they want our resources." The guard in the lead said. Lucille could see dark blond hair sticking out from the rim of his helmet, and mixed into it was blood. But he still held his bow strong, and a dagger was in his free hand.

"Food? The mines?"

"Everything. Or at least that's what we've all been guessing at. Things aren't so stable over there, from what I've heard." The knight to their left said. Lucille nodded in understanding whilst her father's face hardened at the statement.

There was nothing but death around him. Smoke, debris, bodies. They were to be found on each corner, each hallway. The steps even.

Matthias shouted orders, cutting down his attackers with pained strength. Blood had been splattered across his face and clothes, and his shoulders heaved with lost breath. How had this happened? The men attacking… they were in the same uniforms and armor as he and his men. Obviously they had been planning this for a long, long time.

"Stave off any stragglers! You lot- go to the village and make sure the people are safe! Send word back if they are not! You over there- yes you! Gather men you trust and make a sweep of the castle! No room for prisoners I'm afraid." He shouted, spinning about in his duties. He slashed more and fought with every fiber of his strength. The blond could feel injuries lacing his body but they were small enough for him to ignore for now.

He prayed that the 3 he had sent to help had gotten the royal family out. This was no time to be without the king, though he was aware of how many men had suddenly turned on them. Would they all make it? Was the soldier he had sent even trustworthy? He hadn't the time to ask his name… which he instantly regretted. Of course he assumed so, for how hard the smaller guard had fought to tell himself and the king what was happening.

Locking blades with someone in the same uniformed armor of those he had just gotten command over… he felt a deep despair settle itself in his chest. As he looked into the traitor's eyes, he realized what had been sent into motion. So many men… who were supposed to have been under his command, were going to die on this day. Even devout servants had taken up whatever weapons they could and were battling just as fiercely as the soldiers. And even if some of them were no longer a part of their kingdom, it still put a weight on him, that he feared would never lift.

"The rest of you! We need to push these traitors back! Fire canons back if we must but they are to be gone by dawn! None shall stop us!"

His men all cheered in response, sounding victoriously and loudly over the battle around them. Matthias grimaced before quickly getting back to his work- cutting down all who stood in his way with his father's decorative blade. Quickly he realized that there were far too many to fight, and too few knights leftover in his command. If only they could take care of the men outside in one blow…

He found himself impressed as he saw a woman, strawberry blonde hair and braided pigtails, bash her way through the battle with what looked like a stick. Was it a stick from that one game… ah he didn't have time to think about it. An idea struck him and he dashed forward to her. The lord assisted her by using a shield he had retrieved from a fallen traitor, and knocking the enemy down and then making a swift stab to his chest. He turned to her.

"Madame, I need you to do something, for I have not a soldier to spare. But I trust your skill." She nodded, cracked glasses sliding down her nose slightly and her bright blue eyes determined.

"Anything sir." She said, voice far quieter than Matthias had thought from her previous thrashing she had been giving out.

"I trust you know where the armory is-" She nodded again. Matthias sighed in relief. One less thing to explain. "Alright, you need to head down there and alert the smith there. Either will do. Their names are Gilbert and Ludwig, though if it's a woman by the name of Elizabeta that would do as well. Tell them to bring every explosive they've got up to the Second floor. Use the servant's passages, it'll be safest that way."

"Explosives? Why would they have-" Matthias almost smirked, but shook his head instead.

"They have a young protégé there who specializes in that sort of thing. I don't think he's there now though. Trust me, they'll know what to do…. uh… didn't catch your name…"

"Madeline." She nodded. "I'll be off immediately."

"Good." He sent her off with a small pat on the shoulder in thanks and turned to make sure that she would be clear to go. Despite his men's best efforts, there was still a hoard to deal with. He groaned.

It was going to be a long night.

* * *

V

They went through the winding tunnels for what felt like hours. But it could have been mere minutes for how terrified they all were. Explosions and shouting got more and more muffled as they went deeper into the basement of the castle. Both of the girls realized that they had never been down this way before, as it had never befallen their duty to do so. An anxiety settled over the group as they grew colder and closer. By the time they reached near the ends of the tunnels, their breath could be seen, coming in wisps of steam. Night was settling in, it seemed.

They emerged into a large room, lined neatly with cobblestone and bars. The dungeon. It was very rarely used, but it was also well kept. The bars along the walls shone and the cobble was polished to a fine finish. Immediately, the king took lead to one of the cells and went to open it. The footsteps of the group ricocheted off of the walls despite all intentions of being silent. But it seemed- even when they had stilled- that the echoes continued.

"Oh Gods- someone's coming. Get them to safety, I'll deal with this." The smaller said, looking back at the two. "Only sounds like two or three."

"We can-"

"Your pauldron plates are gone; if they have arrows you're dead. Besides that- if you stay then our charges have no protection. Now go. I'll catch up to make sure you've made it." The knight said, his voice growing more commanding as he spoke, drawing out an arrow from his quiver and knocking it.

Lucille bit her lip, shifting her sister's weight on her arm. She knew it was the logical choice but she didn't like leaving the kind knight behind. "What is your name, sir Knight?"

He glanced at her with the most vibrant, lavender-blue eyes she had ever seen. No fear- or at least he was brilliant at lying. A crinkle under his eyes showed that he was smiling. "My name is Tino, your highness. It's an honor to be of your service." He said with a downward nod of his head. "Now go!"

They all did, running through the cell door. Tino slammed it shut behind them and winked, before turning back to run towards the main entrance to the dungeons. King Darius quickly drew out the key he had and stuck it between what seemed to be two random stones. But the wall shifted and he swung it open, just as the clangs of blades began to sound.

"Come, we must go." He told them urgently. "Our Knights have the line, we shall return shortly to assist once we can."

They nodded and went through the wall, exiting into a strange sort of cave. It smelled of fresh dirt and moss. The two soldiers slammed the door closed behind them, but didn't lock it… for Tino's sake.

They ran for a mile or so before the strange tunnel opened up above their heads. The knights remaining helped the two up through the top and then the king. The princesses assisted them in turn, pulling them up and out.

"The estate should be-!"

Once again, the goodly king was cut off from his speech. This time, a blade had protruded from his chest, between the ribs. The knight behind him tore off his helmet, revealing the grinning, young face of a man. Short brown hair and evil, bright eyes of the same shade. It was almost as if time had stopped in that moment, especially for the two daughters, whose eyes were round as the rising moon.

"It ends here, old man."

Both screamed, and Lucille went dashing forward as the assassin tore his greatsword from his victim, causing the elderly man to collapse. Her fist collided with the assassin's hand, causing the grip on his sword to falter. The Princess twisted around so that her back was pressed to his front and his arm trapped under hers, twisted painfully.

The other guard launched himself at her and she used the trapped arm and swung the sword, not piercing the armor or any extremities, but it smashed against his side and he stumbled back. She yanked and twisted on the other's forearm until she heard a sickening crack. The enraged princess stole the sword from him and spun around, swinging with all of her might. Emiline screamed from where she had crawled to tend to their father. "Em, get dad out of here!" The elder sister screamed, forced to dodge before her initial attack had hit.

The traitor's arm- as disgusting as it was, fell to the earth. He screamed at her in fury and pain, trying to pull his dagger from his holster with his non- dominant hand. But Lucille wasn't paying attention to him now, as she parried blows from the other traitor.

"You- will- PAY!" she screeched, all of her usual calm and wit gone. All she saw was white-hot rage. Tino, Lord Matthias… all of the men in the castle had protected them- they had trusted them! Her father lay dying- possibly dead! The King! Darius the kind! The thought crossed her mind that it must have been in this fashion that the men had gotten in the palace. They had joined the ranks, lying in wait for who knew how long.

She felt the two-armed knight's- was he even a knight?- blade bite into her arm, and she felt the weak cut of a dagger to her shoulder blade. Emiline was trying to pull their father away from the fray, but desperately unsuccessful in the endeavor.

Finally, she lunged and caught the one-armed assassin in the stomach. He collapsed in additional pain, blood pooling in his one-handed clutch over his middle. Lucille barely managed to feel any sort of satisfaction before the pommel of the other's blade crashed into the back of her head, followed closely by a slash to her back. She had twisted away, making the cut shallow and non-lethal… if treated.

Lucille tumbled forward, landing ungracefully on her face and feeling her vision fade. She could see nothing- hear nothing but Emiline's terrified screams…. Was that a pair of boots coming her way? She could not see past the fine leather of the toe-

Then nothing.

* * *

 **I'm sorry I suck at action. e- e Tell me what you think anyway though!**


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